Falling From Heaven
by Sailor Seraphim
Summary: A rainy day and a special moment. Will the mind drown in its own sorrows or seek to break free?


Falling From Heaven  
The Blue Series  
A Gundam Wing Fanfic  
By:  
Sailor Seraphim  
  
  
  
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Author's Notes --  
  
I do not own Gundam Wing or any of its related characters. If I did, the series would be chock-full of tasty shounen ai goodness. I do, however, own the situations which occur in this fic.  
  
This fic is filed under what I've titled the "Blue Series." All fics in this series are giftfics I've written for my friend Aoi-chan. They're not related in any other way except for that.  
  
SPOILERS for... nothing. Yea! Just general knowledge of who the characters are and what the series is about. But... if you know stuff about Wufei and Trowa's past (including Episode Zero), you get a cookie!  
  
WARNINGS for... angst, slight surrealism, rain, and possibly OOC-ness?  
  
Enjoy!  
  
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The day was cold, gray and miserable, and for once, Chang Wufei was glad he wasn't on a mission. The current weather conditions were horrid for simply walking about in, but the extensive cloud cover was perfect for shielding an approaching Gundam from the eyes of OZ. But, seeing as the closest base was some distance away and Nataku was not equipped with flight capability, Wufei was spending the day in the safehouse instead.  
  
Though the Chinese boy welcomed his solitude the way a thirsty man craved for water, he had to admit that the presence of four other souls who knew of his trial and tribulations was a comfort. The simple act of the five of them sharing quarters -- even temporarily -- gave the ebony-haired youth a measure of pride and purpose. It was always a blessing to know that he was not fighting this war alone... that he had trusted comrades at his back, should he choose to ask for help. And while Wufei suspected that each boy fought for his own personal reasons, they were each willing to give up their lives to ensure the peace and safety of the Colonies.  
  
With a sigh, Wufei raised one bronzed hand and placed it against the cold glass in front of him.   
  
"Would you approve of them, Nataku?" he whispered wistfully, stroking the glass and his own reflection. But instead of a mournful Chinese boy looking back at him, all Wufei could see was a vibrant girl whose eyes flashed like the fires of Justice itself lived in them. The sound of his own voice hanging in the empty air startled Wufei, making him shiver. He hadn't realized just how *quiet* the safehouse was, especially without the presence of the other four Gundam pilots. Indeed, he had hardly roused from his spot curled up on the windowseat the whole day. Though the day was solemn and dank, for some reason Wufei was drawn to the secluded alcove with its window opening out to the covered skies.  
  
Still shivering, Wufei took in his surroundings. On the opposite end of the seat lay his abandoned book and glasses. He had finished the tome some hours ago and had no urge to return to his room to fetch another. Wufei had brought nothing else with him, and the overwhelming sense of lethargy in his bones made Wufei reluctant to move, even if his teeth were chattering from the chill air. A flash of blue caught his eye and carefully, the Chinese boy reached out to pull the heavy hanging drape of curtain close to him. He idly rubbed the thick fabric against his cheek for a moment before deciding that it was good enough to serve as a makeshift blanket. He pulled harder -- making the drape's hooks rattle across the valance -- until he had enough of the material bunched up to pull across his shoulders. Wufei felt vaguely silly at being wrapped up in the dark blue curtain, but his position huddled on the windowseat and the way the curtain hid his quiet niche was enough for Wufei to remain as he was.   
  
Turning back to the window and observing the gathering storm rolling in, Wufei fought against his own memories and nostalgia but lost. He could easily remember the stormy, rainy days on his home colony. Though the internal weather regulators should have kept the colony's atmosphere stable, they were also aging and prone to malfunction. The end result was a weather pattern much like that of the natural storms on Earth. Wufei remembered how storms would appear out of nowhere, great deluges of water pouring down from the artificial sky and as if it could be spared.   
  
And, oh, how the young children would dance and laugh and play in the unexpected gift, not heeding the cries and admonishments of their elders, who scolded their young for being reckless while their eyes would shine with memories of days they used to spend in jubilant innocence. Of course, Wufei rarely received the chance to frolic in the haphazard storms; as the heir to the Dragon Clan his movements were restricted and he could not afford to behave in a way not befitting of such a position. Still, he sometimes watched his cousins and neighbors play in the rain when he was not occupied with lessons. Wufei never knew why being in the cold rain was so amusing as it never looked that enjoyable to him. However, if the storm continued into the night, there would be warm gatherings around the main hearth or the kitchens. All in the family would crowd into the small living areas, sharing stories and gossip and warm drinks of tea or soup. Wufei smiled fondly at those memories.  
  
Those were happy days. Days that Wufei could no longer spend with his family because they were all dead. Onyx eyes slid shut under the assault of memories and feelings of hopelessness, betrayal, and weakness. All his close friends these days. Or were they his enemies? Did it even matter as long as he kept fighting? Wufei opened his eyes again, scowling at his own reflection against the rain-streaked window. He tugged the thick curtain closer around his body. Yes, nothing mattered now except his quest for justice -- vengeance? -- and all questions of his past could be put off until later. A warrior had no need of recollections of domestic bliss to cloud his judgment on the battlefield.  
  
A shadow eased itself from the overgrowth lying near the safehouse. Eyes narrowing and senses on high alert, Wufei tensed as he saw the shadow resolve itself into a human form. Had this place been compromised? Wufei's right hand freed itself from the recesses of the curtain, reaching for the gun holstered at the small of his back. He could not allow this safehouse to be compromised. Dusk was already settling and the others would be returning from their missions soon. It might be too late to warn them of any enemy attack.   
  
Then the shadow pulled completely away from the dim cover of the foliage and Wufei was relieved to see it was only Trowa Barton. The Latin pilot was walking slowly, head bowed down against the rain, his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his jeans. Wufei frowned. Surely Trowa knew better than to walk around in the rain with no coat on? None of the pilots could afford to be sick; it interfered with the missions. Still, Trowa took no notice of the rain that was starting to pour down heavier upon his slim form. The heavens themselves opened up and in a split second, the rain was sheeting down and thunder boomed like the dropping of bombs and lightning crackled like enemy fire across the stormy skies.  
  
Instead of running for the safety of shelter like any sane person, Trowa stopped in the middle of the yard, standing straight and proud as if a storm was not raging all around him.   
  
"What does that fool think he's doing?" Wufei whispered to himself, leaning forward to press his face against the cold glass.   
  
Through the battering rain, Wufei could make out Trowa's figure, still standing stock-still in the open grass. For a moment, the Chinese boy feared that his comrade had been injured... perhaps he was delirious, or too wounded to move further. But those theories were dashed to pieces when Trowa threw his arms open wide and raised his face to the weeping skies. The rain continued to hammer down and there was no doubt that Trowa's turtleneck and jeans were plastered to him. Still, Trowa continued to stand under the onslaught, the only movement he made was to slick back his soaking bangs away from his face.  
  
Then, with his face bared totally to the elements, Trowa opened his emerald green eyes. And then he smiled.  
  
Wufei did not understand that smile. He could not see anything to smile about when you were being drenched by the freezing rain. He could not understand why anyone would willingly stand in the elements like a fool. The Chinese boy felt himself pulled to Trowa's strange actions and pushed himself into a kneeling position on the windowseat. Both bronzed hands raised to the windows, palms flat against the cold surface. The thick blue curtain slithered down off Wufei's shoulders to hang normally again. Why? Why was Trowa just standing there in the rain? Why was he smiling as he was drenched to the skin?  
  
At that moment, the storm began to die off. The spell was broken. The carefree smile melted off Trowa's face, replaced with a stoic expression once more. As if the whole event had not occurred, Trowa walked through the remaining drizzle, across the grassy yard, and to the safehouse. Trowa entered the safehouse quietly, closing the door against the slackening storm. For some strange reason, Wufei felt embarrassed and uneasy at having witnessed Trowa's actions in the rain. He pulled himself into a tight ball on the windowseat, knees tucked against his chest, behind the cover of the thick curtains. Wufei was sure he hadn't been seen by the Latin pilot, but still didn't want his presence -- his spying -- to be made public.  
  
Finally ensconced fully in the safehouse, Trowa walked silently down the dark hallway, heading towards the sleeping quarters. Then, at the doorway to the living room, the tall boy stopped. Rainwater dripped from the boy's soaked clothing and hair, landing in quiet splatters against the floor. Wufei actually held his breath while Trowa stood in the doorway, staring into the dark recesses of the hallway. Then Trowa raised one hand, slicking back his thick bangs once more, as the water dripping from them had caused the whole heavy mass to fall forward over his eyes again.   
  
Face unobscured, Trowa turned and caught Wufei's startled stare. The Chinese boy had to quash his urge to squeak -- or make some such unmanly sound -- as the full-force of Trowa's gaze. Trowa looked so different now, without the fall of auburn hair masking his face. Trowa's emerald eyes seemed all the more intense, especially with two of the glittering orbs looking straight at you. Wufei's mind spun frantically. Had Trowa known he was watching the whole time? Was he angry now? Had he not wanted to be seen? But if Trowa had known that Wufei was witnessing the whole event, why did he continue what was obviously a private enterprise? All the questions and queries and unanswerable discourses flew through the ebony-haired warrior's mind, and Wufei heard himself speak, though he had no idea *why*.  
  
"Why?"  
  
Trowa just stood in the dim hallway, his emerald green eyes piercing into Wufei's onyx orbs. The two boys stood in silence for what seemed to be an eternity, and Wufei feared that he had insulted his friend by asking the question. Trowa turned around slowly, taking steady, graceful steps down the hallway to the sleeping quarters. His tall, slim form was embraced by the darkness, merging easily into their shadowy depths. Wufei continued to sit on the windowseat, pulling the curtain across his shoulders tightly as Trowa's answer floated between them and hung in the thick air.  
  
"Because rain has never hurt me."  
  
  
  
  
  
-- Owari -- 


End file.
